


No Greater Love

by enigmaticblue



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen, Holidays, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:26:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1689944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dawn runs into an old friend years after they had both left Sunnydale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Greater Love

She saw him again for the first time in a bar, on Easter. The significance of the date wouldn’t have crossed her mind, but a friend of hers had invited her over for dinner, and she had never been one to pass up free food. Besides, there was a part of her that had always enjoyed spending time with others’ families; her own was so scattered these days, and so unlikely to wind up at the same place at any given time, that she’d developed a new appreciation for such gatherings.

 

Her friends from university, and from the Council, all knew that her sister was not the domestic type, and that she was essentially an orphan. Invitations were easy to come by, and she accepted them frequently.

 

This weekend, it had been Ruth, and she had gone to ogle Ruth’s older brother. Not that it did her much good; he was dating someone else, and she hadn’t been impressed with his personality. Now, she was standing in a bar next to her friend, drinking a beer, and staring at the stranger across the room.

 

His hair was different—dark and curly, rather than bleached and gelled, and he wasn’t in unrelieved black. Other than that, he was the same, no older, and exuding the same confidence he had in Sunnydale. There was a young woman seated next to him, and she was talking animatedly, using lots of hand gestures.

 

“What is it?” Ruth asked, putting a hand on her arm. “Are you alright?”

 

Dawn shook her head. “I just saw someone I knew a long time ago.”

 

Her friend followed her gaze across the crowded room. “The one with curly hair?”

 

“Yeah,” she replied, swallowing. “Do you mind if we leave?”

 

“Sure.” Ruth put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “We can.”

 

They made their way towards the exit and had just left the bar when Dawn heard the familiar voice call out behind her. “Dawn?”

 

She turned slowly to face him. Under the silver moonlight, he looked the same—and at the same time, like another person entirely. “Hi.”

 

“Dawn—” The other girl was clearly ready to do battle on her behalf.

 

“It’s okay, Ruth.” She turned to her friend. “He’s okay.”

 

Ruth didn’t look convinced. “Are you certain? I can give you a ride back to the house.”

 

“No, it’s okay. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

 

“I’ll see her home safely,” Spike said. “I’ve done it before.”

 

Dawn knew that her friend had the wrong idea, thinking that she and Spike had once been an item, and that he’d broken her heart. How could she explain that the man who didn’t look to be much older than her had acted as her older brother?

 

When she nodded to confirm his statement, without offering any other explanation, Ruth sighed. “Call me tomorrow,” she ordered.

 

Dawn watched as her friend headed back to her Citroen, then turned to Spike. “I thought you were dead.”

 

“Thought you would have heard by now.” Spike stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Andrew knew.”

 

“You were supposed to have died in L.A.,” Dawn replied. “Buffy sent an entire battalion of Slayers to help you, and they didn’t find anything.”

 

“We didn’t want to be found,” he replied. “Angel and I disappeared just as soon as we could. The Senior Partners were after our blood—so to speak.”

 

Dawn glared at him. “It’s been years.”

 

“It’s been two,” he corrected her. “Hasn’t been that long.”

 

“Long enough,” she shot back. “We’ve mourned your death, Spike. Why didn’t you come?”

 

“Your sister had moved on, and I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” Their voices had been rising, and he glanced around the street. “Let’s not talk about this here, yeah? Where’s your place?”

 

“It’s a few miles away.”

 

“I’m staying at a hotel close by,” he replied. “You mind going there?”

 

Dawn hesitated, but she knew he was right. It was either her place or his, and she wanted to know what had happened. “No, that’s fine.”

 

“You were out with your friend?” he asked as she fell into step next to him.

 

“She invited me for Easter dinner,” Dawn replied. “Kind of appropriate, I guess.”

 

“How’s that?”

 

“Well, you were resurrected, weren’t you?”

 

“More like reversed,” he replied. “The amulet spit me right out in Peaches’ office as a ghost, then a bit later, a box arrived for me, flashed, and turned me solid again.”

 

“Why didn’t you come after that?” Dawn demanded. “Once you were solid again, you could have.”

 

He shrugged. “Didn’t know what your sister would say to me, and I didn’t want to chance it.”

 

“So, you were a coward,” she accused.

 

He sighed. “Probably. Is she happy?”

 

Dawn nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, she is.”

 

“With someone?”

 

“One of the guys from the Watcher’s Council,” Dawn replied. “They met during one of those emergencies she’s always dealing with.”

 

“Right. That’s good. Thought she might be able to move on if I wasn’t around.”

 

“Because you didn’t love her anymore?”

 

“No, because she was never in love with me, and that wasn’t going to change.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“Sure I do. She was dancing with the Immortal the last time I saw her. It was damn clear she’d moved on.”

 

Dawn didn’t know whether to be furious with him or not. He’d hidden himself away, not even thinking about those who might be mourning his death, uncaring of their grief, or the fact that they might want to know he was alive. “You were in Rome?”

 

They were at his hotel now, and he shook his head, a signal to wait. She could read him better now, even though it had been years since she’d seen him. Strange how the intervening time had given her a clearer understanding of what had happened. It had helped to have Buffy’s story, too.

 

When they were in his room, the door shut behind them, Dawn repeated her question. “You were in Rome? When?”

 

“Just before that last battle,” Spike replied. “We tried to see Buffy, but she was out, and we never got close enough to catch her attention.”

 

“You couldn’t have left a note?”

 

“Angel was with me,” Spike replied with a shrug. “What was I supposed to say? Besides, you lot seemed to think we’d gone over to the dark side, and Andrew said she’d moved on.”

 

Dawn didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; it had been a comedy of errors that had kept them apart—Spike too afraid that Buffy didn’t love him, Buffy unknowing, Giles believing that Angel’s—and therefore Spike’s—involvement with Wolfram & Hart meant the worst. The circumstances had cut against them, and now it really was too late. Buffy really was happy with her new boyfriend, and Dawn liked him quite a bit. There was nothing to be done but to live with the hand fate had dealt.

 

Still, there were things that probably needed to be said. “She did love you,” Dawn said softly. “You died to save the world, Spike.”

 

“Someone always has to be the sacrifice, Dawn,” he replied gently. “It’s the way of things. It was my turn, was all.”

 

“You didn’t have to stay in the Hellmouth.”

 

He shook his head. “No, it was my time, and it was the right thing to do.”

 

Spike said it as though it had been easy, but Buffy had described the scene to Dawn, and she wasn’t sure she would have had the guts to stand there and be immolated, even if it was to save the world.

 

Then again, Spike had always enjoyed the grand gestures.

 

But sacrifice—Dawn understood that, and she thought he might be right. Her sister was the Slayer—or _a_ Slayer, these days—and the truth was that someone had to die so that others might live. The Easter service she’d been to that morning had made much of that message, and she had seen it again and again.

 

“No greater love has a man than he lay down his life for his friends,” the priest had said, and Dawn knew that to be true. Buffy had loved her enough to die for her; Spike had loved them enough to sacrifice himself. They were very much alike in that respect.

 

They were also both stubborn and stupid when it came to their relationship. Dawn had seen that much for herself.

 

“What are you doing in London?” she finally asked.

 

“Roaming, mostly,” he replied, seemingly grateful for the change in subject. Dawn got the sense that her acknowledgement of his sacrifice embarrassed him. “Angel said he had an errand, and we’re supposed to meet up in a few weeks.”

 

“Are you still running from the Senior Partners?” Dawn asked anxiously, worried for him.

 

He shook his head. “Don’t think they much care about us one way or another. They’re too busy worrying about all the Slayers running around, disrupting their plans.”

 

Dawn wanted to ask if he would mind her presence. There were things she wanted to say, and she wanted to make amends, but she thought it might be too late for that. “How long are you staying here?”

 

“Dunno.” He was looking anywhere but at her. “Suppose it depends.” She could see him swallow. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

 

For one, brief moment, Dawn could see the desperate loneliness in his eyes, and she realized that he had missed them—missed her. “Yeah, I am.”

 

“I don’t want to change your plans,” he said hurriedly. “If you’ve got a date.”

 

“I’m not seeing anyone right now,” she replied. “I’d like a chance to catch up.”

 

“Right then.” Spike smiled, his expression a little sweet, a little shy. “Good.”

 

They stared at each other, and Dawn thought that neither of them knew what to say, or how to say goodbye.

 

“I didn’t mean it, you know,” Dawn said a little desperately, spitting the words out while she still had the courage to say them.

 

“Mean what?” he asked, puzzled.

 

“About setting you on fire. I wouldn’t have done it. I was just mad.”

 

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I know, Nibblet. It’s alright.”

 

And suddenly—for the first time in a long time—it really was.


End file.
